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Summary: In which Sara meets Promachus and contracts for some training.

IC Date: June 15th, 2015OOC Date: October 13, 2008

Sara meets Promachus

The Agoge Gym

Agoge Gym

What was once factory space has been converted into a space dedicated to training in the mixed martial arts. It is in essence, a large open room, with large windows set some ten feet off the ground. Below the windows that line the gym, Grecian tiled mosaics record and detail the exploits of the Olympians that fought and won Pankration, each mosaic detailing another winner it its art. The gym has been split into three distinct areas, each one focusing on a different element of fighting.

The first and most dominant space is the training area to the right of the entrance. The floor is a well-cared for and well-used wooden one. Full length mirrors are set alongside one wall. Various punching bags are set in this area. Kicking and kneeing bags, heavy bags and everything else needed to hone one's skill in the delivery of unarmed strikes and blows. The second area is devoted to weight and endurance training, in a low tech and simple fashion. Free weights, pull-up bars, jump ropes and medicine balls are all visible. It is set to the left of the entrance. Finally, just ahead from the entrance and in the center of the space is an octagonal fight cage. This is obviously the centerpiece of the entire space. It is well cared for and well maintained, kept ready for use at any moment's notice.

At the far end of the space are two doors, set on opposite sides from each other. One has a sign above it that indicates it leads into the bath, while the other appears to lead into an office space, being marked with "Staff Only".

The gym door closes behind you, silencing the noise of the street beyond.

Look Sara

Five feet nothing is kind of small, thin, and looking like she needs more sunlight. The pale skin and big brown eyes stand out, but she keeps her mouth closed most of the time and only whispers softly as if embarrassed or intimidated. Long, beautiful, silvery-white, shiny hair is braided in an elaborate way. The kind of thing that shows perhaps a touch of vanity that she would spend the time to get it just right.

Tonight her clothing is of a much brighter, less severe style. The jacket and skirt are a bleached bone white. The Embroidery upon the jacket is white satin thread of stars and constellations. The skirt, the same bone white, giving the girl an extremely pale all over look. Her hair has silver ribbons braided into it.

At around 6 pm, people are out and about, walking by the open door to the gym. Inside the place is vacant, except for a large man dressed in some casual-wear. He's walking around the inside of the place with a spray-bottle and a large towel, wiping down and disinfecting the bags and mats as he's got some free time for the moment.

From the street a diminutive figure steps into the Agoge and pauses for a long moment looking around, taking in the mosaics and equipment, walking very slowly in enough to be able to look all around. Sara doesn't say anything yet, just waits while she watches the lone man going about his job and standing there holding a flute case with a satchel over one shoulder.

look Promachus

This broadly built, heavily muscled and tattooed Caucasian male carries himself with an air of confidence and bravado. His head is completely bald, leaving barely-there blonde eyebrows to sit high over his icy-blue and arrogant-appearing eyes. His face is round shaped, thick and rough-looking, nose marred with small scars along the bridge. His lips are often pressed in a flat line of neutrality, the neutral aspect breaking off when he smiles, the event happening more often than not.

A tight-fitting black v-neck shirt fits snuggly to his form, the cut hugging the man's well-chiseled upper-body and musculature. To look at the shirt it seems expensive and well-crafted, silk and cotton used to create a shirt that allows little light to penetrate. The contrasts of the shirt and the shadows thrown on it can be eye-catching, if only because of the cut of the shirt. The shirt hangs below his belt-line, covering the waist of his dark blue, brand-new jeans. The blue is of the darkest indigo, the dye already having faded over the wear marks near the pockets and front of the jeans. On his feet sit a comfortable pair of supple, calf-leather light-brown casual-wear shoes.

A titanium bracelet is secured loosely around his right wrist.

The large man rises from a kneeling position after finishing cleaning one of the mats, as he does so, Sara's small figure catches his attention. He blinks for a second, as if the light from outside blurred his vision in some fashion, or if Sara is narcissistic - perhaps her beauty causes the pause? "Afternoon miss." He says in a low, velvety tone. "Can I help you?" He doesn't move toward her, instead giving her some room and space by holding his position.

Sara's voice is indeed a soft whisper and she steps forward just a bit so as to be heard. "I have heard of your establishment, and was wondering about the training you have available here. I am interested in gymastics and acrobatics, actually, and I've been trying to find someplace with a more personal, one-on-one attention for clients." Seeing her move, there's definitely a high grace noticeable to someone who can judge people physically. But she's very soft spoken and doesn't meet the eyes as she speaks to you, as if embarrassed or wary. Hard to tell which.

"I am capable of training gymnastics and acrobatics both, though neither is my specialty, miss." Promachus replies casually, if not warmly. Rolling his shoulders, the muscular man moves to place the cleaning supplies down nearby. "I am available for personal training and instruction, this month being much slower than last." He moves back to the soft-conversational distance Sara established, eyes studying her coat a bit more closely than before - a light color coming to his cheeks for a brief moment, chased away by a curious smile. "My name is Promachus, miss. A pleasure to meet you." His volume matches her own without being condescending in nature. Oddly, he doesn't offer to shake her hand with his greeting…

Sara doesn't reach forward to shake hands either. She resorts to an anachronistic gesture, and gives a curtsy instead. "I am called Sara Nevyn." she whispers. "Pleased to meet you, Mr. Promachus." All with very careful intonation, very polite and reminiscent of a Victorian attitude. A momentary pause and then she adds, "I am a floutist, and sometimes I get contracts to play on an irregular schedule. As a musician, we can't be very choosy about when work comes our way. Would it be possible for your training to be sometimes on a variable schedule?" she asks, watching your reactions as if she's trying to read your body language.

"I could be available whenever you needed, Ms. Nevyn. That is my purpose." Sliding his arms across his chest, he enfolds them there, body-language dictating a relaxed state for a male. Her mannerisms are not lost on the gentleman, who smiles once more. "Indeed, if you decided to patronize the Agoge, I could be at your disposal if you were out of state for your personal lessons. I am nothing if not flexible about the people I work with." His arms unfold as he makes a subtle gesture with his left hand, indicating he is going to pontificate a bit. "I invest in my clients, sometimes even more than they do. I try to challenge them. I take my work seriously."

Sara nods once to Promachus' statement, replying softly, "Challenges I like. Being discreet and subtle I also feel are highly advantageous. I'm not one who chooses to bring lots of public attention to myself, but prefer to explore many avenues of development." She watches the reaction to that, and adds by way of explanation, "I would not be averse to a class, with other students, if such were useful to me and convenient given my schedule, but I do have a high regard for personal information about me being kept private."

"I consider myself a professional, Ms. Nevyn. Your personal business is your own. What you do with me is private and would always be." Promachus allows his lips to still for a moment while he regards her comment about differing avenues of development, ice-blue eyes shifting to her coat once more as he thinks on the matter. "I am available for multiple areas of training, as you prefer or desire - always private. Confidentiality is a serious matter for many of my personal clients." He smiles upon Sara, eyes seeming to reflect the same regard and warmth. "Would you like to come in and look around? I could provide a place for your instrument case until you are finished?"

"I would appreciate that, thank you." Sara murmurs as she holds up the flute case. Promachus' smile and the warmth he is projecting seeming to put her at a little bit more ease. "A tour of your facility," Oh, still formal in her use of English, even though she is more relaxed. Can't just say 'look around' it seems. "would be fine. And, if you wouldn't mind, I am interested in your philosophy of teaching as well?"

Taking the flute case, Promachus regards it as he might a case of jewels - taking it over to place in a lock-case near the front entrance, locking it up. "Of course, a tour." He replies with a soft chuckle, realizing that she's not just 'another' customer, she's looking for something a bit more intimate and interactive. "My philosophy of teaching? Hmm. I'm not sure what you are asking. A philosophy of teaching is quite a large field." He moves back to Sara's side, offering her an elbow - quite akin to what a Victorian gentleman might do when giving a lady a tour of his manor. "I suppose I am a teacher that holds his students to a high, though realistic expectation, giving them the tools and training to achieve such a thing. I tend to tailor my approach based on the student, some people need more motivation than others and some need a drill-instructor. It will all depend on your desire and need."

It will likely appear rather automatic, like something both expected and customary, as Sara simply rests her hand gently in the man's elbow as he offered it. "Well, some people prefer to offer the student opportunities, and then facilitate them following the direction that is picked. Others prefer to lead. Some like to inspire." and she shrugs a little bit as she steps rather quietly where you lead. "To put it bluntly, I would not be fond of a drill sergeant who sought to drive me to physical perfection." she adds, gesturing to the mosaics of Olympians. "Sparta was very successful, for a time. But there was greatness in the other city states, too. I seek an instructor who can not only help me learn, but might also find inspiration in a student. Does that explain what I am asking a little better, Mr. Promachus?" she asks in a whisper.

"You seek to be my muse, Ms. Nevyn?" Promachus asks with a dark color coming to his cheeks, either flattered or embarrassed. "I find, like most Greek instructors, that the teacher can often become the student in many regards." The man licks his lips, guiding Sara toward the back of the place to pull open the large door to the baths. "The Greecian bath." He explains softly, indicating the bath-room with a slight nod of his head. "Perfection is something to strive for, but to expect such a thing will always leave one wanting. Perfection is a higher goal, but not something to be waged toward with no understanding of the journey." He stops for a moment, "Do excuse me, sometimes I get ahead of myself."

Sara glances sidelong up at the man from her diminutive height. "No need to excuse. If I inspire someone to speak of what they truly believe, am I not asking for such elaboration upon the theme of the conversation?" she asks, her lips quirking a smile now. Small and slight, not showing any teeth, but she seems to have a demeanor that is relaxed. "And it's funny you should put it that way. A Muse is a classic Greek demi-goddess, is it not? Some people simply put on the affectations …" and she gestures again around the room, "Like your artistic mosaics. But it appears you are sincere in a way that implies both the intellect and style lend itself toward the mood and the efforts that go on in this establishment. So please, Mr. Promachus, continue your tour."

The color in Promachus' cheeks lingers as he turns to lead Sara to the cardio and grappling area of the gym. "This is likely the place we'd do our training, after hours for your privacy, of course." The floor is covered with firm, pliant mats surrounded by different training equipment. "A Muse is a demi-goddess, yes." He agrees with Sara's statement, "And they inspired many Greeks to heights they'd never have reached otherwise. Perhaps the consummate teachers, leading by example and inspiration both." He looks to the loft-door, but then thinks it perhaps a bit impolite, turning his icy eyes toward the heavy-bags and boxing equipment as he awaits her response.

Sara is attentive as Promachus leads her around and asks in a soft murmur, "Do you have other equipment, perhaps not out and on display? I've always liked Parallel Bars." And looking up again, there's that smile, "What women do on those is so much like flying, don't you think?" she asks before adding, "But yes, the Muses seemed to be an ideal the Greeks aspired to. As a Musician, I should think Euterpe had some touch in my life. But when I used to sing with Stagio in his band, I suspect Polyhymnia had a hand in that. Now, I seek to make Terpsichore smile … and perhaps, in private moments, Urania." Though, when she speaks of them, it's hard to say from the whispers whether Sara is alluding to the stories or if she is one of those pagans that believes in them.

"I don't have the equipment you are speaking of in the building. I would purchase it for our training as you are the first to seek such training from me. I knew I'd need to get it at one time or another." Promachus suggests with a chuckle, half-shrugging. "A woman on the parallel bars is indeed like flying, so fluid and smooth in motion." As Sara mentions Stagio, the muscled man quirks a brow. "I don't believe I knew Stagio, nor his band. A singer and musician, and now seeking to explore gymnastics and acrobatics? Truly a lady worthy of the Athenians." He does not remark on her correct naming of the Muses, noting it as she impresses him, though he tries to not let it show. There is an odd undercurrent to the man as the two speak, Sara seeming almost perfectly complimentary to him. A subtle sensation of concern flutters through his being for a second or two.

If she notices that concern, she doesn't mention it. Sara just stands and employs what one might call "active listening". Attentive and very polite. She will speak as she waits for you to continue moving without trying to rush you. "That would be acceptable, yes. I would like to learn to fly." she whispers. Very simply put, if ambiguous. "But as for aspiring to the Athenian way, no … I prefer to say I am being true to myself. For that is the ultimate lie that can bring one down, and the ultimate truth that can bolster one against the ravages of the world. To seek ones limits is to learn a great truth. It is also a great step toward learning how to exceed them, don't you think?"

"My personal philosophy is such." Promachus agrees, giving Sara another quick and curious look, as if he's seeing something a little too perfect. "I strive to struggle against my own limitations, focused on exceeding those limitations, I've never met another who has agreed before." The man's free hand reaches up to run over his bald head slowly as the two move back toward the doorway. "Truth is not what people often remark it is. It is not an illusion or merely a perception, truth is in its own way, a limitation to be exceeded by wisdom and understanding." Recognizing he might sound overly pretentious, Promachus chuckles at himself. "And what do you think, madam? Would you enjoy training with me? To learn how to fly at my hands?" His eyes study Sara with interest.

Sara lets go of the mans elbow and reaches into her satchel, taking out a business card. "I think, perhaps, that sometimes you find what you are looking for. Though, you never know, perhaps the Universe is just seeking a moment of synchonicity if you have gone for so long without finding anyone who believed in finding their limits the way I do." and then the gives a slight, utterly silent, giggle as she holds out the card to you, "One of those things the Fates do to a person. Make your existence follow a pattern until one day they twist it, and you realize you've never met someone who said those words or believes those things or did whatever it is you didn't see before. And … I do think I would like to try to learn to fly in your training. If you are as open with your discussion of the nature of Truth, perhaps I might learn more than just the training my body will go through." she ends her whisper in a contemplative tone of voice before asking, "Here is my contact information. Can you please send me any paperwork you require? And what your rates are. Any other such suggestions you might have." and she reaches to pull at her skirt, "Probably need to find something more modern to wear for training than … skirts … If you have a tailor you can suggest to make me something appropriate, I would appreciate that as well."

Taking the offered card, Promachus studies it as he thinks over Sara's comments. His eyes shift to study the woman, seeming to penetrate through her in its intensity. "I will send you what you need. I have clothing here you can wear for training. It is specifically tailored for gymnastics and such." The card is slid into his pants pocket and he leans close, though not intimately so to speak in a hushed tone with Sara. "Your grace and poise is exquisite, Miss. Your posture perfect. Very few women are able to carry themselves with such elegance." Subtlety it seems, is the order of the day - speaking of her corset without actually /speaking/ of her corset.

Sara averts her eyes again, seeming very demurely downcast as she curtsies to the man. The picture of Victorian standards in demeanor once again. Though from her tone of voice, she's not trying to avoid Promachus' glance, it's more like she's culturally acclimated to just that kind of gesture. "Thank you, Mr. Promachus. Perhaps you are more perceptive than I thought. Of course, when two people work as Mentor and Student, sometimes you notice things about each other that are unexpected." And she adds with a smile, now turning her head again so as not to look directly at you, but out of the side, "If I bring grace and elegance to your establishment, it should not only be a result of my physical presence, but because you allow me to bring such here. It would be extremely rude and inappropriate of me to go where I am not wanted, after all." and she folds her hands before her and a glance to where you locked up her flute as she waits.

"I believe you will bring more than just that to my establishment, but I will save my judgment until it occurs." Promachus expresses faintly, chuckling once more before moving to unlock Sara's flute from the lock-box. Returning the instrument to Sara he holds it out for her. "I look forward to seeing you again soon." His eyes echo his words before he too looks away, as if sharing a bit too much. "Have a fine evening." He settles back on his heels, intrigued and interested in the unique woman. "Unless…unless you need an escort home?"

Sara gives a smile to that and shakes her head, "If you could call me a cab, that would be fine, thank you. Pakistani or Indian Handsome Cabbies haven't changed much in over a hundred years." she whispers, her tone one of amusement at the thought. "I'll be sure to bring my own personal gentleman to watch and escort me next time."

"Ah. Of course." Promachus says, appearing the take to the hint quickly and politely. "I will call you a ride home. Have a fine night." Leaning over to pick up the telephone he calls in for a cab. "They'll be here shortly." The large man tells Sara, now awkwardly reaching for the bottle and towel to continue cleaning as she waits for the cab.

Sara steps to the door and will wait in the shadows beside it until the ride comes, being quite quiet and if she watches Promachus work, she does so from her peripheral vision since she doesn't look directly at him until she leaves.